


Undertow

by FeelingFingers



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Panic Attack, Slice of Life, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 18:40:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingFingers/pseuds/FeelingFingers
Summary: MC is caught off-guard by a panic attack. She seeks comfort from someone who comes from a place of understanding.





	Undertow

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a hard time. 
> 
> I'm not especially focusing on cannon. Just making little tangential AUs of my own.

It washed up over her like a wave. One moment she was at the convenience store looking at neatly stacked rows of cup noodles and kimbap and the next she was struggling to stay on her feet. Panic surged around her sending clammy tendrils of dread coiling in her stomach. It was all she could do to force ragged breaths through her lungs. Emotion choked her and clouded her vision in murky waves, tunneling down into almost nothing. Startled by the intensity of it she jerked backwards. MC swayed unsteadily on her feet and staggered backwards against freezer case. Her head met the glass doors with a dull thunk. Closing her eyes and focused on her breathing. In. Out. In. She counted each effort. The chill of the freezer doors seeped through the thin material of her blouse. Though uncomfortable, she was thankful for it. A small thing that helped ground her in the now. A lifeline to cling to as panic threatened to submerge her. 

A frayed, hysterical, thought pushed its way to the surface of her mind. _I am going to die here. In this stupid convenience store._ Similar irrational nonsense sprung up behind it, crowding her brain until a voice sounded from alongside her. To MC’s horror, it seemed to be addressing her. 

“Miss?” 

The voice repeated itself. The sudden attention redoubled the struggle warring within her. With no small effort, MC opened her eyes and looked at the source of the voice-- a middle aged man in a suit who was looking at her with equal measures of impatience and wariness. Dimly, she wondered how she must look pressed back against the freezer case. Had she been talking to herself? She couldn’t remember. Narrowing her eyes, she willed herself to focus on his words as he spoke. It felt as though he was at the end of a long tunnel rather than standing right next to her.

“Excuse me?” MC inclined her head as she tried to grasp at the threads of conversation.

“May I see the case behind you?“ It looked like impatience was winning out over wariness as he eyed her disapprovingly. 

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” Stumbling out of the way, MC turned abruptly and returned the kimbap she was holding to the nearest shelf. Any kind of appetite she might have had is long gone. Instead, she is only filled with an immense urge to flee. So she does. Out of the store and down the street. She doesn’t look at where she’s going. Any direction is fine as long as it is away. She focuses on the feeling of her feet on the pavement. The rhythmic sound it makes. The swaying of the trees. Small details. Anything she can use to pull herself out of the emotional mire she’s sinking into. 

As MC moves she finds that the worst of the episode has passed her, but she can’t sit still. It’s as if she’s on the edge of it and if she stands still then it will overtake her again.

\---

It’s exhaustion that stops her at last. MC flops down onto a bench, scattering a few sparrows that were in the midst of fighting amongst themselves. Her breath comes to her in fits and starts. At some point she had been running-- the exertion chasing away the worst of the dread. And now she was… She looked around. Where was she? A park of some sort, though she hadn’t been paying much attention to where she was headed. The bench that she’s seated at is along a gently winding path that leads further into the tree-dotted park. It was nearing dark. The sky was dusted with long fingers of pinks and oranges. MC frowned. When had that happened?

Taking in a deep breath she exhaled it slowly before fishing her phone out of her bag and opening up the messenger. She felt dread brush against her as she eyed the amount of missed messages she had accrued. So many texts and emails. Her hand fell into her lap and she looked up at the sky. After awhile she unlocks her phone and hits a number on speed dial before bringing it to her ear. She does all this without looking, her eyes still on the reddening sky. 

He answers on the first ring. 

Insecurity seizes her and she drops her gaze to her lap. What was she doing? Words suddenly feel thick in her throat. Unmoving. 

“MC?” 

She can hear the note of concern in his voice. That slight upward lilt of her name at the end, twisting it into a question. 

“I don’t know.” She says at last, because it’s weird to sit silent on the phone and just breathe at him. She laughs, the sound strangled as it twists it’s way from her. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. It just seemed right that he would be the one to call. Of all people, he wouldn’t judge her. “I guess I just wanted to hear your voice.” She can hear a soft intake of breath. Had she surprised him? In spite of herself, she smiles.

“Where are you? It sounds loud there.”

“Is it?” Genuine surprise colors her voice. For the first time, she looks around. The park is dotted with couples-- some who are spread out on the grass having picnics. Others meander along the darkening tree-lined paths that weave through the green space. Just up ahead a small group of people seem to be having some dog meet-up. She tilts her head, considering. “Huh. I hadn’t noticed. I’m at… a park.” Because she doesn’t want to admit that she doesn’t know where she is off-hand and doesn’t feel like opening her map app.

“I’m coming to pick you up.” His answer is immediate and nonplussed.

“What? No! I’m fine--” MC sits up straighter, anxiety flaring once more at the thought of being a burden. 

“I’m already on my way. Just sit still.” MC frowned. No doubt when Saeran had asked where she was he already knew the answer. Or was looking it up. 

“Really, Saeran…” She tried again, this time employing a gentler tone. “I just wanted to talk. There’s no need to stop what you’re doing--”

“MC.” Saeran drawled out her name, halting her train of thought. On his end of the line she could hear movement. “We can talk all you want in person.” And then, after a short pause, “Maybe I wanted to see you.” 

She relented. Because, really, what could she say to that?

\---

The ride to the bunker had been in relative silence. Despite her initial pleas of just wanting to talk, MC couldn’t muster the energy to form coherent sentences. Saeran, being Saeran, didn’t push. Or mind. The silence was comfortable. MC allowed herself to luxuriate in it. There were no expectations here. She could talk (or not) as she wanted. As it happened, all she really wanted to do was to sit next to him and watch the scenery shift on the horizon as they drove further from the city.

When they pulled into the garage she waited for him to turn the car off before opening the door and falling in step behind him to the living space. She craned her neck to look around Saeran towards the bank of computers on a raised platform in the corner of the living room. Presently they were bouncing between screensavers. 

“He's at Yoosung’s.” Was the answer to her unasked question.

“Ah.” MC nodded, not sure if she was thankful or disappointed that Saeyoung wasn’t around to be a cheerful distraction. She continued forward to the couch and plopped down unceremoniously. Behind her she could hear cabinets opening and closing in the kitchen. Scooching back on the couch she pulled her legs up beneath her and leaned her head against the back of the couch. “...Thanks for coming to get me.”

Suddenly a mug was being held in front of her face. MC blinked in surprise before reaching out to take hold of it. Bringing it closer she inhaled deeply, a warm smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as the smell of hot chocolate enveloped her. “You’re amazing.” She breathed, earning a soft laugh from the man behind her. She took a long sip of the drink. It felt thick and sweet on her tongue. Saeran crossed around the couch and sat next to her, leaving a comfortable distance between them. He drank from his own mug, expression thoughtful as the silence stretched between them. Still, he didn’t press.

“It’s stupid.” MC took a deep breath in and exhaled it out in a steadying fashion. “I’m fine...Everything is great. But, still, I’ll be walking along and suddenly it’s like I’m underwater and I’m crying in public in front of stupid cup noodles.” Leaning forward she sets her cup down on the glass of the coffee table, punctuating her sentence with a solid ‘thunk’. She covers her face in her hands and squinches her eyes closed tightly. Her voice comes out small and strained from between her fingers. “I don’t even know what causes it most of the time.” 

When he touches her it’s gentle. The motion tentative at first. Long fingers carding back through her hair in soft, reassuring strokes. MC can feel the tension begin to drain bit by bit from her shoulders and she leans into his touch. 

“I don’t think it’s a thing you can pin down with logic.” His voice is low and close. “If it were logical then you could just push it away.” He lets her hair fall free from his hands and slowly, gently, he pulls her hands away from her face. “MC…” A thrum of anxiety swirls in her stomach and she keeps her eyes closed. But Saeran is nothing if not persistent. His thumbs rub gentle circles on the palm of her hands. The touch grounds her. Pulls her out of her head and into the present. Here. With him. She can feel the warmth radiating off his body. The soft puffs of his breath just by her cheek. When had he gotten so close? It’s then that she peeks up at him from beneath her lashes. She’s rewarded with a smile that makes her heart twist with a feeling that most definitely isn’t anxiety. 

“Don’t hide.” He whispers. Releasing one hand he moves to trace a gentle line along her jaw, his thumb brushing a feather-light touch over her lips before falling away. Not for the first time she thinks: _This man is my undoing._

And suddenly she finds herself crawling into his lap and curling her arms around his neck. He responds by pulling her closer, tightening his grip around her waist. She rests her head against his chest and listens to the comforting sound of his heartbeat.

“I’m glad you’re here, Saeran.” She whispers. His grip tightens around her. 

“Me too, princess.”

\---

It’s late (read: stupid early) when Saeyoung returns home. Crashing into the house he doesn’t make much effort to be quiet as he unceremoniously drops his messenger bag at the door and lets his keys clatter down onto an end table as he walks by it. He’s about to call out for his brother when he enters the living room and rounds on the couch, but what he sees halts his steps. A soft, wistful smile spreads across his lips.  


Illuminated by the half-glow of monitors that dominate one corner of the room, his brother and MC are tangled up on the couch sleeping deeply. He shakes his head slightly before disappearing into another room momentarily only to return with a large comforter, which he drapes over the sleeping couple. Careful of waking them, he tucks them in as best he can and then pauses to survey his handiwork. He watches them, peaceful in their sleep, his expression thoughtful before reaching out to lightly touch MC’s head and then his brother’s. With that he quietly retreats to his room, sparing a final backwards glance before closing the door behind him.


End file.
